my weekend was interesting. friday night i hung out and didn’t do much of anything. saturday i went to the gym…. went to ikea…. went to work for a bit…. then i went home and did laundry while i watched the last two discs for season 1 of party of 5. it seemed like a typical weekend….

sunday morning i got a phone call from my mother. she said that my father had an accident. he fell off a ladder. he was in the hospital. my brother called me while i was on the phone with her. she gave me some more details i couldn’t really comprehend because i was still pretty much asleep. i got off the phone with her and called my brother back. he said he was going to go down to the beach house to see him. i got up…. got in the shower…. got dressed…. and drove to my brother’s house. we got in his car and drove to the shore. we found the hospital but were told that my father was not registered there. bullshit. so we walked around and finally found the room with the help of a nurse. we walked in and my father was in one of those gowns…. flat on his back…. an iv sticking out of his arm…. and an oxygen tube coming out of his nose. “hi guys!”, he said. unreal. he was in a lot of pain…. but he wasn’t showing it. we all sat around and talked about what happened. he told us what the doctors said. he fractured a vertebrae. the fracture went away from the spine. six weeks in a back brace possibly…. if they don’t perform surgery. and then rehab after that. good god….

so i found out that there were two other people present while my dad was hanging this picture. and none of them were holding the ladder. he fell from about 14 feet. all things considered….. it could’ve been so much worse. he could’ve been paralyzed. he could’ve broken his neck. he could’ve died. all for a fucking picture.